Preference: Normal Indeed
by EnamoredWithSherlolly
Summary: Prompt from Tumblr: According to Magnussen's dossier, Sherlock's porn preference is normal, but after seeing a bit he doesn't quite think is possible to perform, he can't help but imagine him and Molly in the same position.


As Sherlock heard footsteps stomping up the stairs, he quickly slammed the the lid of his laptop down, getting up and moving to his chair. The moans slowly died down and gave way to a low hum.

Grabbing his blanket from the floor, he draped it over his legs and waist, reaching for a newspaper just as the lock clicked and the front door swung open.

He heard the crinkle of plastic bags. John grunted.

"Why are you reading your newspaper like that?"

Sherlock made sure his expression was one of indifference before lowering the newspaper.

"Reading it like what?" The corners of his lips lifted into what might have passed for a genuine smile were it not for the fact that his eyes didn't crinkle at the corners as they usually did.

John stared at him strangely for a moment.

"It's upside down," he stated slowly, enunciating each syllable clearly as if speaking to someone who was a bit...well..._slow_.

Sherlock glanced down to discover the headline he had been pretending to read looked like gibberish. Indeed.

He turned the newspaper the right side up again.

"Just practicing. Never know when the skill will come in handy."

John nodded slowly.

"Make sure to put the groceries into the fridge, alright? And no more body parts on the same shelf," he admonished, his shoulders set. If he had to eat fish that smelled just vaguely off one more time...

"Sure," Sherlock immediately agreed.

"Okay." John frowned, a little taken aback by Sherlock's enthusiasm.

"Well, I'm heading back home. Don't message me for the next few hours."

"Alright."

After a moment of hesitation, unsure how to take Sherlock's sudden change in behavior, John headed back out, his movements a little slower than usual. The door clicked shut behind him.

Breathing out a small sigh of relief, Sherlock scrambled out of his chair, strode to the door, and locked it. The distinctive bulge in his trousers was still quite obvious, and he headed to the bathroom, eager to regain rationality once again.

He had been doing a bit of social research of people...in flagrante delicto, but clearly what they were doing was quite preposterous and most definitely couldn't be done in real life. No one could hold up the weight of another, especially not in such slippery circumstances.

So that was definitely going to be that, he decided as he stripped and turned the shower knob to full spray, dousing himself in ice cold water.

* * *

Sherlock Holmes arrived in the morgue the next morning, bright and early, at 7 am.

"Molly! I need a body," he began enthusiastically.

Molly peered at him over her cup of coffee, eyes heavy-lidded. It was too early in the morning for enthusiasm, and most definitively too early to be enthusiastic about dead bodies. Nevertheless, she slowly dragged herself up from her chair, set her coffee cup down, and accompanied him over to the cold chamber.

"What kind do you need?" She asked, covering her yawn with her hand.

"Female, 50's."

She walked over to one of the shelves and slid it open, leaning over to identify the body. Sherlock, impatient, stepped closer as well, his head inches away from hers.

Strawberries, he vaguely thought, and he took a deeper whiff. It was truly a lovely smell. His eyes flicked down toward Molly, only to catch the nape of her neck peeking out from under the collar of her lab coat, and he discovered it was...vaguely erotic.

He shook his head, trying to rid himself of the thought, but the longer he stared her slender, pale neck, the more he found he couldn't pull his eyes away.

_His hands on her waist, lips on her neck, sucking and nibbling gently._

Molly turned around, smiling.

"Yep, I think she'll be fine. Do you want me to bring you scalpels and stuff?"

His eyes zeroed in on her lips. Not too small. Perfect, pink and rosy. They would be soft to kiss, he decided.

_Her soft lips wrapped around his cock, gliding up and down as her eyes closed, eyelashes caressing her cheeks. _

_"Sherlock," she moaned, her tongue flicking _

_He moaned in response, his breath coming out in heavy puffs._

"Sherlock!"

His eyes snapped into focus. Molly stared at him, her delectable lips turned down into a slight frown.

"Are you okay?" she asked, a little hesitantly.

"Uh. Yes," he answered, a little flustered. He pulled his coat tight, then strode toward the door, his stride a little wider. His cock strained at his trousers until it almost hurt.

If he stayed here a second longer, he would ravish her. He desperately needed a cold shower.

"Where are you going?" Molly called after him, confused.

"I'll come back later. Put the body away for now," he shouted back, never breaking stride. Turning to the left, he headed straight for the men's locker room, his breath coming out shorter and shorter.

_Her hands on his cock. _

He burst into the locker room, breaking into a dead run toward the showers.

_His mouth on hers, tongues tangling._

He stumbled his way into a shower stall, barely taking a moment to shed his Belstaff.

_His hands and mouth on her breasts, his tongue drawing circles around her pebbling nipples. _

He spun the knob, and the water pounded into him full blast, the icy coldness knocking the breath out of him.

His hands went straight for his belt, unbuckling it and dropping it to the floor. Unbuttoning his trousers, he tugged it down, his cock jumping out, no longer restricted.

Head tilted back, Sherlock let the cold spray of the water hit him.

_Her hands wandered over his body as he licked droplets from the shower spray off her collarbone. He sucked gently at her neck, leaving a red mark, then moved toward her right breast, until she arched against him, her hand kneading his balls. He lifted his head for a split second before his mouth crushed against hers, and he groaned into her lips, fingers still lightly playing with her nipples. _

_She got down on her knees, eyes never leaving his, as she wrapped her delicate hands around his cock, then replaced it with her mouth, her tongue licking the precum from his head. She grinned at him, but he could only moan. _

_Grabbing her, he picked her up, her back slamming into the wall. He took a step closer, until his cock was lined up with her cunt, and he let dropped her just a little, letting gravity do the work for them. She was scalding hot, and he groaned in pleasure, lifting her and dropping her so he pounded against the back of her walls each time. She let out a little moan of pleasure with each thrust, her hands scraping against his back, her mouth never leaving his, whispering words of love in between dirty pleas of asking him to fuck her harder and harder, begging him to cum in her. _

_He would comply, speeding up and pounding into her until she finally convulsed around him, milking his cock, her lips forming a silent 'o.' Her legs tightened around him, locking him inside her as his cock pulsed, letting stream after stream of cum flow into her, only to drip back down and disappear with the stream of water._

Sherlock leaned against the wall, breathing heavily, his cock still in his hand, which was now slightly sore. His shirt clung to him, defining every contour of his body. He closed his eyes, leaning his head against the wall, water dripping down his locks and his chin.

* * *

He ignored the incredulous stares of the morticians as he squeaked his way toward Molly's post, his clothes sopping wet and dripping the entire way.

Slamming the doors open, he only had time to see the expression of extreme confusion on her face before he crashed into her, hands gently cupping her face while his lips crushed into hers, tongue demanding entrance.

After a moment of shock, she softened against him, her lips parting as she kissed him back with a fervor that matched his own, ignoring the water seeping into her lab coat.

Indeed, the two completely ignored the crowd that had gathered outside the doors to stare at them (they supposed they had to be lovers? It was strange Molly never mentioned that fact), making good on Sherlock's fantasies.


End file.
